


To Find a King

by stellarose



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarose/pseuds/stellarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BotFA Spoilers. After the Battle of the Five Armies, Legolas sets off on his own to find the Ranger known as 'Strider'. But darkness and danger are growing in Middle Earth, and hope hard to come by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story picks up more or less exactly where Battle of the Five Armies left off, so if you haven't seen that, you certainly should! And yes, there will be spoilers for the third film. I am also uploading this onto ff.net
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the names of characters/places, etc. These belong to Tolkien/Peter Jackson/Warner Bros where applicable.
> 
> Please read, reply and enjoy!

Legolas rounded the corner of the narrow cliff path, giving him full view of a welcome sight. The winter daylight was quickly fading into night, and it had been long since the elven Prince had slept in a warm bed. Or quite any true bed, for that matter. Nearing the end of his journey, Legolas could feel the exhaustion he had long fought to keep at bay catching up with him. He had been merely surviving for too long, and his body was now screaming at him to rest, and the Prince could think of nowhere better than Rivendell, the Last Homely House.

The horse plodded carefully down the narrow path that led to Rivendell. The creature did not have the same excellent eyesight as the elf, and thus grew jittery and afraid in the dark. As the darkness encroached, lamps were lit around Rivendell, lighting it with a warm orange glow, making the small city all the more inviting. Not that Legolas came by invitation, but he knew he would ever be welcomed. He assumed that Lord Elrond had known of his approach for some hours now, ever since the Prince crossed into the lands surrounding Elrond's hidden halls. Lord Elrond may have known for days or weeks even that it was in this direction that the Prince made tracks, had word been sent, but somehow Legolas doubted that.

Finally, Legolas turned the horse onto the bridge which crossed the gorge, and passed into Rivendell itself. There he saw only two figures waiting, and was grateful for the small welcoming party, as he was far from being in the mood for chatter. Too often of late he had been felt too frustrated or angry or - Legolas knew not what, but they were not natural feelings for an elf. Tonight, however, he just felt tired.

"Lord Legolas, you are most welcome here," Lord Elrond smiled, his arms open.

Legolas halted the horse, and the groom who stood beside his Lord stepped forward and took the reins. The Prince dismounted somewhat awkwardly. The day had been bitterly cold and threatening snow, although that threat had never eventuated. All the same, Legolas's feet felt close to frozen. He gave Lord Elrond a small bow. "Well met, my Lord."

Lord Elrond nodded in reply. "Supper, bath and bed is in order, I suppose."

Legolas looked sheepish. Did he really look to be in that poor a state? Or did Lord Elrond know more than he was giving on? Now that he was here in front of the Lord of Imladris, the Prince assumed the latter.

The groom led the horse away, the poor animal now steaming in the cold, and Legolas gave the horse a small pat on the hindquarters as it was led past, before following Lord Elrond up the stone steps in an amiable silence to the warm and cozy halls of Rivendell.

"Here we are," Lord Elrond said at last, opening a door to one of the spare rooms in the Lord's own family quarters. The room was of a generous size and had a fire blazing in the hearth, heating the room to a perfectly pleasant level of warmth. Entering the warm bedroom after spending so long in the cold, Legolas felt a chill go through his body. He shuffled towards the fire and warmed his hands beside it's golden glow. His fingers tingled in a not entirely unpleasant way as the blood returned to them, and Legolas rubbed his hands together to speed up the process. A tray of food and a jug of wine were carried in to the room by a server, and placed on the small table where the room's occupant could take meals alone, or with just a favoured friend or two. "Come and eat," Lord Elrond encouraged, taking at a seat at the table, then preceding to pour two glass goblets of wine.

Legolas regretfully moved from his place beside the fire and sat down opposite his host. He took a goblet of wine and put it to his lips, feeling a familiar sensation as the deep red liquid ran down his throat and into his stomach, warming his insides.

"It's a good vintage," Lord Elrond said, making conversation, although being completely aware that the Prince was unlikely to respond. "Eat up, the food is still hot." The host removed the silver lid from the dish, revealing a simple meal of creamy mashed potatoes, steamed winter green vegetables and roast pheasant.

Upon seeing the food, Legolas felt a hollowness in his stomach that he had heretofore been unaware of. He picked up a plate and eagerly served himself. Long had been the weeks since he had enjoyed fare such as this. Lord Elrond set about serving himself a plate with much more decorum than the Prince, but forgave the manners of his guest. As the Prince suspected, Lord Elrond was not naive about the motives behind Legolas's visit, nor of the events of the preceding weeks and months. Of the proceeding years even, for the Prince. How long had Legolas fought to protect the Woodland Realm against the ever-growing threats and darkness which encroached upon that once great and beautiful forest? A decade, if not longer, Lord Elrond knew. Though in the life of an elf, a period of time such as that was only short, any amount of time spent almost constantly surrounded by that level of evil and darkness was hard on both body and heart.

Legolas and Elrond finished the meal, Legolas eating the lion's share. "All ready for a bath?" Lord Elrond asked, finishing the last of his wine.

"You make me sound like a small child," Legolas smirked.

Lord Elrond shrugged.

Legolas smiled, despite his tiredness. "I suppose one has been prepared for me whilst we ate?"

"You know my household too well," Lord Elrond said, pushing back his chair and standing up.

Legolas did the same and followed Lord Elrond into the adjoining bathroom, which was lit by candlelight and, had it been a clear night, starlight from above. However the night was cloudy and dark, so it was simply the yellow glow of the candles giving light to the room. The bath water steamed, and there was a distinct smell of lavender and peppermint, the healing oils of which Legolas suspected were in the bath. He undid his tunic, when he noticed that Lord Elrond was still in the room, standing beside a table upon which lay a towel, fresh small clothes and a pale blue linen tunic and trousers, into which Legolas would change after his bath.

"Take off your shirt," Lord Elrond said, observing closely the Prince's every move.

"How do you…?" Legolas began, his mind to tired to know remember the most obvious.

"First and foremost," Lord Elrond said kindly, taking Legolas's tunic and mail from him, "I am a Healer. I know when I see one in pain. Take off you shirt and let me see."

"It's fine," Legolas said defensively, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. It wasn't fine, of course, but he'd been dealing with the pain. It had been no more than a mere irritation. Only, much like the exhaustion, it was now catching up to him. Legolas pulled his shirt up over his head and handed it to Lord Elrond. The Healer placed the soiled clothing on the wooden chair beside the table and moved slightly toward the Prince.

"I would ask you to tell me wear exactly it hurts, but the bruising betrays it," Lord Elrond said, gently running his fingers across the yellowing bruises on Legolas's back. The Prince shivered at the touch. "You muscles are tight, too."

"I know," Legolas stated bluntly.

"You were thrown into a wall or the ground," Lord Elrond said. It wasn't a question. The candlelight was more than enough for him to make his diagnosis by. "More than once."

Legolas did not find reason to reply.

"Into the bath, now. I'll tap on the door in twenty minutes when it's time to hop out."

Legolas gave a nod and Lord Elrond left the Prince alone in the bathroom. Legolas stopped off his boots, trousers, socks and small clothes and slid into the steaming bath. He was glad to be alone, so that none heard the moan escape from his lips as his tired body was engulfed by the steaming water. His feet tingled as his hands had previously as the hot water returned full feeling to them. Legolas lay back and let his muscles relax.

"Go north…"

Was Rivendell not in the north? Rivendell had baths and roast pheasant. It was warm and caring and safe. It was beauty and light and hope, the Prince thought, a small smile on his lips. Legolas did not wish to go any further north, at least not for tonight, and tried to force his father's words from his mind. If Thranduil had known this Strider's father, then surely Lord Elrond would have too. How did Legolas not? His name was familiar, but no matter how long he dwelled upon it, Legolas had failed to place it. Arathorn. He knew that name. Legolas furrowed his brow. He knew he knew it…

A gentle tap at the door followed by a call of "Legolas?" woke the Prince from his reverie. Despite his protesting muscles, Legolas forced himself to sit up.

"Aye, my Lord."

"Very good," Lord Elrond called through the door.

Legolas pulled himself out of the bath and dried and dressed. Perfectly clean clothes, another small luxury he had to long forgone. He re-entered his assigned bedroom and found Lord Elrond standing by the fireplace. The blankets had been pulled back on the bed, which could not look more inviting.

"I have not enjoyed a proper sleep in quite some time," Legolas said, sliding into the bed. The blankets were thick and warm, the sheets were soft. The Prince lay down, his weary muscles glad to do so, and looked at his host who stood staring into the flames of the hearth.

"It is likely a mortal sleep shall take you," Lord Elrond said, not looking away from the fire. It was seldom that elves fell into the state of mortal sleep, as so long as they could enter the elvish dreams, but Lord Elrond suspected it had been long since Legolas had even achieved that level of peace of mind.

"Shall I dream?" Legolas asked. He knew not if he wished to or not. Should the dreams be pleasant, then them he should enjoy. But should he find them to be otherwise…

"That I do not know," Elrond said, finally turning to face his tired guest. "But within this Realm and within this House, few know little but peace," he said kindly.

Legolas gave his host a small smile and settled into the bed, resting his hands across his chest, staring up at the star-painted ceiling. As the fire flickered it lit the stars on the ceiling it such a way that the stars looked not to be a painting at all, but like the true night lights, shimmering far away and overhead.


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas awoke to a pale and sunless day. Thick clouds covered the sky, making it hard to judge the time of day, but the Prince guessed it was nearing noon by what winter light shone into his bedroom. He lay in bed, unmoving, trying to remember his dreams, only nothing came to mind. In a way he was glad. After some minutes, Legolas propped himself up, his muscles happy to cooperate, and was surprised to find that he was not alone in his chambers. Two figures sat silently at either side of the table where he and Lord Elrond had dined the previous night. Between them sat a plate of food.

"Mellon-nin," Legolas said and smiled as the two forms re-animated.

"Well met, our Woodland Prince," said the elf to Legolas's left.

"Well met?" Teased the other, "More like hardly met at all. Last night we heard such wonderful rumours that our sweet friend from the east had returned, only we saw nothing of him. We were forced to seek out our father who begrudgingly informed us that you had indeed sought out the hospitality of Rivendell. We had not been officially informed as, well, our father more or less labelled us as 'disturbers of the peace'," the elf said conspiratorially.

Legolas grinned whole heartedly; something he had not done for sometime. He sat up properly, feeling only a slight tightness in his upper back, but none of the other physical pains he had been bearing of late. Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Lord Elrond who sat opposite him, were amongst his oldest friends.

"We were given strict instructions not to wake you, although we have eaten some of your breakfast," Elladan smirked.

Legolas laughed, "How long have you been waiting?"

"Some good hours," Elrohir said, "Breakfast consists of fresh bread, dried fruits, butter and a particularly good apple and raspberry compote."

Legolas looked at his friends. "Then I suppose I should join you," he said, pushing back the blankets, and swinging his legs out of bed. As he stood, Legolas saw that the world outside had been coated with snow overnight. The Prince pondered momentarily at how snow in Rivendell could look so beautiful and soft, yet the same element within the shadow of the Lonely Mountain had been dirty and cold.

His room had remained at a perfectly pleasant temperature throughout the cold night, and the fire was once again blazing, Legolas presumed that was thanks to the twins. The Prince saw a fine brocaded robe draped over the end of the bed which he had not noticed the night before, perhaps because it had not been there. He pulled it on over his nightclothes, and sat down at the table on a low chest of draws which Elladan had pulled over. Legolas took a plate and made up his breakfast. The three spoke idly as Legolas ate, all happy to keep the conversation from straying into the territory of matters concerning the dark and foul things of Middle Earth.

After emptying his plate, Legolas asked the twins, "Is Lord Elrond here?"

The two exchanged a glance. "He's out," Elrohir replied.

"Out where?" Legolas asked, curious. With the weather this cold, it was unusual for elves to travel needlessly.

"He left this morning," Elladan said, "Six rode east. Ada indicated they should return around nightfall."

Legolas gave thought to this, and tried to push suspicion from his mind that Lord Elrond was avoiding him, or buying himself time. "And you two were not asked along?"

"We were happy to decline," Elladan said and smiled, "The day is bitter, and the company of old friends proves much more enjoyable."

For a moment Legolas considered confiding in the twins the quest his father had set him. It was likely they knew something; why, they may even know where to find this son of Arathorn. "Then I suppose you have devised a day full of winter activities in which to keep me occupied?" Legolas asked, deciding against the twin's confidence.

"'The Prince needs rest and relaxation' our father told us," Elrohir said, "So we have planned a day of archery practice and strenuous hikes, followed by sword play in the yard, and,"

"Elrohir," Elladan said, kicking his brother under the table, noting a strange look come over Legolas's face.

"What is it?" Elrohir asked the Prince.

"Not sword play," Legolas said, feeling his heart rate increase and his hands clench slightly. He did not want to hold another sword. He could not.

"You can use your knives," Elrohir suggested helpfully.

"My brother jests," Elladan said, "Ignore his foolishness. Ada left strict instructions that the day is to be spent reading, playing music and dreaming, doing each for however long one desires."

Legolas nodded solemnly. "Forgive me, mellon-nin, I am not quite myself."

"There is nothing to forgive," Elrohir smiled kindly, the exact same expression worn by Lord Elrond the night previous. He stood and placed his hand momentarily on Legolas's shoulder.

"Besides," Elladan said, standing also, "Arwen will be glad for a change of company."

"An improvement, no doubt she will say," Elrohir added.

"I shall be glad to meet with her," Legolas said honestly. If there had been one in whom he had always held confidence, it was the Lady Arwen.

The afternoon passed in a mix of books and music and tales Middle Earth of long ago, long before any of their fathers or even grandfathers walked the earth. Legolas was glad to be in the company of Lord Elrond's children, as well as a small number of other elves of Rivendell, but he never found the chance to speak with the Lady Arwen alone. Night fell, and Lord Elrond and the riders who had set out that morning were yet to return. Legolas supped with the Lord's offspring in a room overlooking one of the great waterfalls which ran past Rivendell. The water still ran steadily despite the cold; it was not so freezing as to stop the motion of those great falls. Not like the cold further east, in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain, where river and waterfall alike had been frozen solid. Ice was more treacherous than running water, Legolas decided, as you never knew when it might abandon you and make you fall into the freezing depths below, then likely blocking your way back up.

"Legolas?" Elladan asked, his fork half-way to his mouth. It was the second time today he had seen that expression upon the Prince's face.

"It is nothing," Legolas said, forcing his mind back to reality. He pushed his meal of stewed venison and roast carrots around on the plate. He felt abandoned by Tauriel, by his mother, by his father, by Lord Elrond… "I am just tired," the Prince said, laying down his fork, his meal half-eaten.

"Perhaps we should retire for the night," Arwen said, giving Legolas a way out.

Legolas nodded. "Good night to you all," he said as politely as he could. He was quite aware that the three siblings would discuss his peculiar behaviour in his absence, but he cared not. Legolas headed briskly for his chamber, passing the mural of Isildur and the shards of Narsil and stopped. Arathorn, son of Arador, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and rightful King to the Throne of Gondor. The history of the Dúnedain came flooding into Legolas's mind. The elven Prince then noticed that he was holding his breath. He exhaled, turned wide-eyed and looked at the mural of Isildur defeating Sauron on the slopes of Mount Doom. This Ranger, this Strider he was to seek, was the Heir of Isildur, and thereby rightful King of Gondor. And King Thranduil, if no one else, would see him restored.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and the comments. Much appreciated! :)

Morning dawned cold and clear, the wind bitter, but the snowstorms past. Rivendell was still blanketed in white as Legolas pulled on his robe and boots. He had heard Lord Elrond and the other riders return during the night, but had decided that he was too comfortable in his warm bed to go and confront the Lord at once. But now, dressed and breakfasted, the Woodland Prince had questions, and he would not be ignored.

Legolas found the Lord of Imladris tucked away in one of Rivendell’s smaller libraries, a room that was more of an alcove with bookshelf lined walls than a true library, searching through an old and dusty dome. 

“My Lord Elrond,” Legolas said, alerting his host to his presence.

“Ah, Legolas,” Lord Elrond replied, “You must forgive my sudden departure yesterday morning. Matters were brought to my attention which could not be ignored. Take a seat, if you wish,” he said, gesturing for Legolas to sit.

Legolas sat down on the chair beside the desk where Lord Elrond leaned over the book. Lord Elrond shook his head, unable to find what it was he was after and closed the ancient tome, returning it to the shelf. 

“You have questions,” Lord Elrond said, taking a seat opposite the Prince.

“My father told me to find one of the Dúnedain Rangers,” Legolas said, wondering if Lord Elrond and his father had indeed engaged in correspondence. Lord Elrond’s expression did naught to make it clear either way.

“What would King Thranduil want with a Ranger?” Lord Elrond asked, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly.

To make him King, Legolas thought. “That I know not,” he lied.

Lord Elrond sighed knowingly. “If neither of us are truthful, then neither deserves the answers he seeks.”

“I seek the son of Arathorn, and I know him to be the rightful Heir to the Throne of Gondor,” Legolas confessed, leaning forward slightly. Lord Elrond was right; there was little point in lying if either wished to know the truth.

“You know not his name?” Lord Elrond asked, ever so slightly bemused.

“If my father knows it, he did not share. I know this Ranger goes by the name of Strider.”

Lord Elrond gave a slight nod. “That is the name oft used for him by the men of the north and the west. In Rivendell, most still refer to him as Estel.”

“The boy Estel?” Legolas asked. He recalled hearing of Lord Elrond fostering a human child, and of giving him that most peculiar name. 

“Yes,” Lord Elrond replied.

“And what was the name his father gave to him?” Legolas enquired.

“Ada, have you seen - oh,” Elrohir said, bursting into the study, Elladan close on his heels. “Legolas. Found him.”

“Be gone, ionnath-nin,” Lord Elrond said, waving his hand, dismissing his sons. 

“So serious on such a beautiful winter’s morn, Ada? After you were out all yesterday?” Elladan smiled.

“And unless my ears deceive me, did I not hear mention of our brother Estel?” Elrohir asked.

“What was his birth-name?” Legolas asked again, turning toward the twins.

“Who, Aragorn?” Elrohir asked.

“Aragorn,” Legolas said slowly, testing the name. He turned back to Lord Elrond who Legolas could not help but think looked annoyed. 

“Have you had word from Estel, Ada?” Elladan asked, encouragingly. “It has been a long while in the life of men since we have had word from him,” he said as an aside to Legolas.

“All of you, out,” Lord Elrond said, standing up. “Legolas, find Aragorn if you wish but expect little of him.” Lord Elrond stalked out of the library past Legolas and the twins, disappearing down the hall. 

Legolas could not help but feel confused at the Lord’s actions. He stood and turned to his friends. “What does he mean?”

“Ada is not particularly happy with our dear Estel,” Elladan said, “Ever since the Ada told him who he truly is, and the burden with which those titles bear.”

“He’s quite like you really,” Elrohir said casually, “Everything got too much for him, so he ran away.”

Before anyone could stop him, Legolas had grabbed Elrohir and slammed him into the wall. “You know nothing of what I have done!” the Prince yelled, “You have no understanding!”

“Legolas!” Elladan yelled, grabbing Legolas and pulling him off his twin. “He meant no offence!”

Legolas stood glaring at Elrohir, his heart pounding in his chest, his hands shaking. Whatever had come over Legolas scared him more than he could say. It was not like him to act so violently, and he did not like it. “Let me go,” Legolas said to Elladan, brushing his friend’s hands off of him. “You do not understand,” the Prince stressed, his words strained, and hurried out of the library. 

“Legolas!” Elrohir called after him, hurt and confusion in his voice, but Legolas continued without pause.

Once returned to his chambers, Legolas quickly shut the door. He grabbed his possessions, his knives, his bow and quiver full of arrows, the clothes he had arrived in which had been laundered, and threw them onto the bed. He would change, take his weapons and go. He looked around the room, checking he hadn’t forgotten anything. Everything was too small and too close and there wasn’t enough air and he felt angry and - it was wrong. Everything felt wrong, and Legolas knew it. He turned and stared out of the large window at the scene of Rivendell, blanketed in snow, the sky bright blue up above and forced himself to calm his racing mind. The scene outside was beautiful. 

“Legolas?”

Legolas turned as he heard his name whispered. “Arwen,” the Prince said. Lady Arwen stood half in his chambers, the door opened only a few inches as though she was afraid to enter.

“I just wanted to be sure you were alright. You did not come to lunch.”

“Lunch?” Legolas asked. Had he not only recently breakfasted?

“Some hours have passed since you shoved my brother against the wall,” Arwen said. Legolas blushed. “Do you worry yourself,” she continued, entering the room and walking gracefully toward him. “All if forgiven. And do not think yourself the only one who sometimes wishes to give that elf a shove,” Arwen smiled gently and sat down on the bed beside where Legolas stood.

“You know?” Legolas asked, feeling ashamed at his earlier actions, as well as confusion at his absentmindedness. He did not realise how much time had passed as he stared out of the window.

“We all know,” Arwen said gently. Legolas guessed that she meant more than just his altercation with Elrohir. “They understand, Legolas,” she said, looking his in the eyes.

“I do not,” he swollowed, turning away.

“You plan to leave.” It was not a question.

“I cannot stay. I should not have come,” the Prince said. He could not go home to the Halls of his father, he felt trapped in Rivendell; could no where he find peace?

“You will go to find Aragorn.”

There was something in the way that Arwen said his name that made Legolas turn back to look at her. “You know where to find him?” Legolas asked.

“No,” Arwen answered, “But I would first look to the south. Spending the winter in the north would be folly.”

“How shall I know him when I find him?” Legolas asked.

The edges of Arwen’s mouth twitched, teasing at a smile. “He’s tall, about your height. He has dark hair, and wears it to his shoulders as is common for men. He has grey eyes and a strong, handsome face. And he wears the Ring of Barahir.”

“That is quite an heirloom,” Legolas said, recalling the history of the ring. 

“It is his by birthright,” Arwen said.

“As is the Throne of Gondor,” Legolas said.

“Why do you seek him?” Arwen asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“My father told me to,” Legolas replied emotionlessly. 

“And you do all your father asks?” Arwen teased ever so slightly. 

Legolas could not help but smirk ever so slightly. “I believe you know the true answer to that, my Lady Arwen.”

“So why this quest? Why Aragorn?”

Again, Legolas heard that note in her voice as she said his name. He hesitated before answering. “I must do something good. Too long have I fought a losing battle against the evil which lays waste to my father’s Realm. I must find,” Legolas paused, unsure of whether he wanted to say the word on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he found another. “I must find this Ranger alone.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Thank-you for the comments and kudos, they are much appreciated :) Enjoy this next instalment.

Working her natural charm, Arwen had convinced Legolas to spend one more night in Rivendell and depart at first light the coming dawn. The world was still dark when the Prince awoke, the winter stars the only lights in the frosty night. Legolas lit a few of the candles on the candelabra and gave the fire a stoke before changing out of his nightwear and into his own garb. He was glad to note that all physical aches and pains that had ailed him when he had arrived at Rivendell were now gone.

"You need not lurk at the door, Arwen," Legolas said as he fastened his tunic, sensing her presence. Arwen opened the door and entered.

"You are almost ready?"

"Pray tell you have not arranged a leaving party?" Legolas teased.

Arwen smiled. "No. Your departure shall be as quiet and unremarkable as your arrival."

"Good," Legolas said, thankful. He did not wish for a large send off, and quite supposed given the hour of his departure that he would be unlikely to see any more of the occupants of Rivendell.

"You are not wearing that?" Arwen said, nodding in the direction of Legolas's fine mail vest which lay on the end of the bed.

"It is a garment meant for battle," the Prince said, sitting down on the bed to pull on his boots. "I shall fight if this quest calls for it, but will not intentionally look for conflict." Legolas stood up.

"Will you wear this though?" Arwen asked, handing him a bundle of cloth.

Legolas unfolded it and looked at the cloth in the candlelight. "It would be rude of me to refuse such a gift," the Prince said, holding up a cloak of fine mottled blue, grey and brown wool to admire it. It was not lost on Legolas that the cloak was the colours of shadows.

Arwen took the cloak from his hands and placed it around his shoulders. "I know you need it naught for warmth," she said, fastening the clasp, "But there are many eyes out in the world, and not all are friendly, least of all toward elf-kind, viewing us with suspicion and mistrust."

"I know," Legolas said. Of late he had experienced much of that; dwarves preferring war to making a deal with the elves, and men doubtful and wary in the presence of those of the Eldar.

Arwen lifted the hood up over Legolas's head. "There will be times when you identity may be best kept hidden."

"You support me on this quest against your father's wishes," Legolas said, picking up his quiver and knives and fastening them to his back. "He would not have me seek out this Ranger." Lord Elrond had made himself scarce since his encounter with the Woodland Prince the previous morning, and Legolas did not expect to see him now.

"He is not always right," Arwen said, "Age does not necessarily lead to wisdom on all matters. His visions can be wrong. The future can be changed. I do not believe this world to be so fixed upon a single path."

Legolas frowned ever so slightly. Surely is was too early in the morn for such philosophy. Then he realised it was unlikely that Arwen had slept this night. He picked up his bow. "I shall return," he said and walked to the door.

"Give Aragorn my blessing," Arwen said.

Legolas stopped as he reached the door. He touched his right hand to his heart and then held it out to Arwen in a sign of admiration and respect. Arwen returned the gesture.

~

Legolas had travelled south and west for a little over two weeks before he came to a village of men within the shadow of the Misty Mountains. Upon entering the village, Legolas had not come across a name for it, and wondered if such a place had a name at all. A half dozen ramshackle buildings stood together, making a town centre of sorts. Fortunately, one of those buildings was an inn.

Legolas had been stopping at any encampment of men along the way, though these had been few and far between. But time in the wilderness had done the Prince more good than he could have realised. Though his physical ailments had been cured in Rivendell, it was only since being out in the wild that Legolas had noticed a dark cloud shrouding his mind. Legolas knew not how to remove this cloud, but the knowledge that it was there was a revelation in itself. Besides, he thought, a change in the wind, and even the fiercest of storm clouds blow away.

The day had rained relentlessly until mid-afternoon, and it was after nightfall once Legolas, cold, damp and muddy, came to the inn in the tiny village. Once inside, Legolas found the establishment to be hot and stuffy, rife with the smells of pipe weed, unwashed men, fire smoke and ale.

"And how can I be of assistance, young master?"

It took Legolas a moment to realise that the barman was indeed speaking to him. "I,"

"Require a room and a meal, no doubt," The barman said, cutting him off, "We've plenty of rooms to be had, no need to worry. Little traffic at this time of year. Folk don't start heading back north for around another month, or a good fortnight at least. Room 4, upstairs, on your right, should suit you nicely. Go and take a seat, I'll get Tessie to bring you a meal and an ale. Tessie!"

Legolas moved through the inn to a empty both to the right of the fireplace. He put down his bow and took a seat, keeping most of his face obscured by his hood. The inn could hold at least double or more people than the dozen or so currently present, and Legolas assumed that the weather and the time of year kept many guests at bay. Almost all present, bar the elven Prince, were engaged in loud, bawdy discussions, laughing and getting drunk.

"Here you go," a buxom serving girl said, placing a mug of ale and a plate of hard bread, harder cheese and dried meat in front of Legolas. She waited. Legolas looked at her. "Well?" said the girl rudely.

"Thank-you," Legolas said, somewhat confused, hoping that was all she wanted.

"See, manners don't cost you nothing," the girl said, swishing her hips as she strode back to the bar.

The meal was by no means special, but it was at least a change to the lembas bread which Legolas carried with in small supply. He ate the meal, imagining it as fresh bread, roast game and creamy soft cheeses, accompanied by a selection of vegetables, followed by seasonal fruits, all washed down with strong wine. A whole keg of this weak ale could not light a fire in the belly of the Woodland Prince.

The meal, although average at best, and the warmth of the inn momentarily distracted Legolas from his his surroundings. For he paid no heed to the hooded man sitting in the alcove across the room, smoking a pipe and watching the elf. Legolas had seen the man on entry, and instinct had told him to give the man a wide berth. It was not until this man stood and crossed the room that Legolas took full note of him.

The man slid onto the bench on the opposite side of the table at which Legolas sat and slipped his pipe into a concealed pocket. "It is seldom that those of the Eldar visit these parts. Especially alone," the man said leaning forward, his hands folded on the table in front of him, his voice hardly above a whisper. The man too kept his hood up over his head, but Legolas recognised the garb of a Ranger.

Legolas suppressed a smile from appearing upon his lips. "It is seldom to find a man in these parts who speaks the tongue of the elves so naturally," he replied in Sindarin, the same language in which the man had spoken.

"Who are you?" the man asked accusingly, continuing in Sindarin. Legolas went to remove his hood, but the man stopped him. "Not here," the man said, raising his fingers to stop the Prince. Legolas lowed his hands, his eyes glancing at the Ranger's hands. The ring on the right pointer finger of the man was unmistakable.

"Where?" Legolas asked, not allowing his tone to betray the gratefulness he felt at having found the man.

"Have you a room?"

"Room four, I believe the barman said."

"Good," said the man, sliding off the bench and standing up. "It's quieter than mine."

"You are familiar with this establishment?" Legolas asked, grabbing his bow and following suit.

The man didn't reply and led the way up the narrow winding staircase and down a passageway to room four. The room was on the smaller side, containing a lumpy bed, narrow washstand and window overlooking the darkened street, and lit by a small torch beside the door. Legolas lay his bow down on the bed and the man shut the door.

"Who are you?" the man asked again, continuing the conversation in Sindarin.

This time Legolas removed his hood without interruption. "Legolas of the Woodland Realm," he replied.

"Legolas?" the man repeated.

Legolas nodded.

"I know your name," the man said, slightly accusingly.

"Son of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm" the Prince added, deciding that there was little point in lying to the Ranger. He wanted the man to trust him. He needed him to.

"And what brings you here, Legolas Thranduilion?" the Ranger scoffed at the name.

"You," Legolas said.

"You know who I am?" the man asked.

"Yes," Legolas said, "I have come from Rivendell. My Lady Arwen sends her blessings." Though the room was lit only by a flickering torch, it was enough for Legolas to see that the Ranger's cheeks turn pink at the mention of Arwen.

"What do you know of that?" the man snapped.

"Aragorn, is it not?" Legolas asked, ignoring the man's question.

"What do you want of me?" Aragorn asked, flicking back his hood. He was exactly as Arwen had described.

"We are both lost, Aragorn. There is much we both do not understand."

"Talk to me straight, or not at all," Aragorn snapped, "I've had it with the riddles of elves."

"I am sorry that our paths have not yet crossed, but I know that my father once met yours. He…" Legolas trailed off. He went to the window and looked out before turning back to Aragorn. "Something has happened," the Prince said, his eyes wide. He grabbed his bow and headed briskly for the door.

"What? Legolas?" the man called, confused, glancing quickly out of the window and seeing nothing, before following after the elf.

"What is it? What's happened?" Legolas asked the barman, returning to the common tongue, as he emerged back into the main room of the inn. The occupants, who's numbers were unchanged since Legolas had arrived, all stopped their chatter and laughter and stared at the elf in their midst, none having taking any note of him upon arrival.

"Nothing," the barman said, looking confused as Aragorn appeared behind the elf. "Nothing's happened, good sirs."

"Something is wrong. I can feel it," Legolas said to himself as much as to anyone else in the room.

"Legolas," Aragorn said slowly, "Nothing has…"

The door to the inn flew open and two women, a teenage boy and two younger children barged through.

"Orcs!" One of the women yelled, "Orcs on our farm! Not five miles east of here!"

Legolas turned to Aragorn. Aragorn looked at Legolas's bow. "Are you any good with that thing?" he asked.

Legolas tilted his head. "Not bad."

"Let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy 123rd birthday to Professor Tolkien! And 21st birthday to my brothers (not that they'll read this!). 
> 
> And a huge thanks for the kudos and comments.

Shortly before dawn, during the darkest hour of the night, Aragorn and Legolas returned to the village. They had easily dispatched the band of orcs, Legolas having taken out the most of them with his bow before the witless creatures had even realised that the elf and the Ranger were nearby. Legolas’s skill with his bow had more than impressed Aragorn, though he would keep such observations to himself, and from the few moments of hand-to-hand of fighting which had occurred, Legolas had seen enough of Aragorn’s movements to learn that the Ranger was a keen swordsman. 

Upon returning to the village, the two returned to the inn and reported what had occurred. All of the orcs had been killed and their remains burnt. They had also found the body of a man, and had left his body wrapped up in a blanket in the house for the family members to bury or cremate as they saw fit. The family, though distraught, were grateful for that much. The townsfolk wished to hear more of the gory tale, but Legolas and Aragorn knew that as the sun rose, the townsfolk would begin to ask questions as to what a band of orcs were doing in these parts, and suspicion would fall upon the mysterious Ranger and the newly arrived elf. So Aragorn and Legolas settled their respective accounts at the inn and headed west toward where the rivers Bruinen and Mitheithel met. 

Throughout the day they walked in companionable silence. The scenery was mostly unchanging, with rocky rolling green hills, small twisted trees, and the roar of the river Bruinen never out of earshot for long. They did not stop until nightfall, when Aragorn, tired after two days without a proper rest, stopped their hike.

“We make camp for the night,” he said dully. Elves may be able to march for days without food or rest, but regretfully, Aragorn thought, men were not so durable. 

Legolas nodded in response and they set about lighting a fire and foraging for any foods to supplement the lembas bread, finding a small cranberry bush still with the winter berry, and tart green apples.

They ate their meal sitting either side of the fire; once finished, the Ranger sat picking at a bit of apple peel out of his teeth with his thumbnail. He looked at the elf opposite him. Legolas might be a fine archer, Aragorn thought, but he neither wished for nor needed a partner. The life of a Ranger of the North was supposed to be a lonely one. Wasn’t it?

The Prince had folded his legs and settled down to the rhythmic motion of making new arrows. He had found a suitable piece of wood for the task whilst searching for fire wood and was eager to replace the arrows he had used the previous night. 

“What do you know of recent happenings in the east?” Aragorn asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He had heard word of dragons and dwarves and mountains full of gold, but they were little more than rumours and strange whispers in these parts. 

“You have heard?” Legolas asked, his eyes flicking up briefly from his work.

“Very little,” Aragorn said, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “Rumours. Gossip. Nothing from anyone who’s word I’d be willing to trust. Do you know more?”

“I was there.”

“So it’s true?” Aragorn asked, eager to hear more, “About the dragon?”

Legolas nodded and proceed to tell Aragorn his part in the recent happenings on the other side of the Misty Mountains. He told the Ranger of dwarves in Mirkwood, of Bard the Bowman, orcs at every turn, the dragon Smaug razing Laketown, of Gundabad and the army of orcs. Of arriving in the destroyed city of Dale, ready to fight, and finding his father ready to flee. Of Ravenhill. “But in the end,” Legolas said, choosing to stare at his handiwork rather than look up at Aragorn, “I - one more shot,” he sighed and swallowed. “One more shot. I couldn’t help her. One more shot and - well, it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Legolas’s mind running over the events of Ravenhill while he worked methodically at his arrows, Aragorn feeling awkward and confused as to why he had had become the Prince’s confident. He did not feel as though he deserved such an honour. He had heard many tales of the Woodland Prince, and more of his famous warrior father, and now to be trusted by Legolas in such a way seemed quite surreal. “I do not believe that you would have given anything but your all,” Aragorn said at last, hoping it sounded a thoughtful and diplomatic thing to say. Hoping it was right. 

Legolas continued to look down at the arrow he was making. He did not know why he had confided so much in this relative stranger. He had not been comfortable telling any of his friends at Rivendell whom he had know for millennia, yet his had just told everything to this man whom he had know for but a day. “For as long as I can remember, I have followed everything my father told me. Every order, every direction, every piece of advice. Then I just could not any longer. I refused a direct order. I suppose I thought better of my own judgement than that of my father and King. I believed that one wholly blind would see the situation at hand better than he.” Legolas paused for a moment and sighed. “I cannot go back. Not yet,” the Prince said, dejected. He put down the arrow in his hand, learnt back and looked up at the silver stars twinkling overhead, letting their bright, shimmering light fill his mind. Both he and the Ranger, without saying, were thankful for the clear skies, for although the night would be cold, there was little protection to be found from rain in these parts. Besides, Legolas had always liked stars, full of memory and wisdom as they were. Too little of the stars he had seen in the past decades. 

“I suppose I can trust you to keep watch whilst I sleep?” Aragorn asked, a yawn escaping him, and stretched out his legs. He wondered if the Prince realised he’d been staring at the sky for half and hour and guessed not. 

“Of course,” Legolas said, roused from his dreaming, placed the new arrows into his quiver and stood up. He did not wish to sleep; watching the stars would prove rest enough. There would be no disturbances tonight. 

Aragorn watched as the elf found a place to stand as sentry a few feet away with his back to the campfire. The Ranger lay down, and wrapped his cloak around him. There was something about that elf, Aragorn thought, although he could not quite put his finger on it. He wanted to trust the Prince. He may not need a partner, but he could definitely do with a friend.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight time jump, and POV change, but it'll be back to Legolas and Aragorn next chapter.
> 
> Many thanks for the comments and kudos :)

Thranduil looked at his reflection in the mirror. Barefoot, and in just his under-tunic and trousers, the Elven King didn’t look much like a King at all. He had boney shoulders, and was thin across the chest, waist and hips. He could just as easily be an elven squire than a King when dressed in just his under-things. The transition to King had never been an easy one for Thranduil, having seen his father cut down in the opening days of the War of the Last Alliance, and being thrown into a position of leadership at such a perilous time that he was far from prepared for. 

The King’s robes were laid out on the bed. If he wished, Thranduil could call for a server to come and help his dress, but he decided against it. Today he would be having audiences enough, and cherished what time he could spend alone. 

For he was increasingly alone. After the Battle for the Lonely Mountain and the tragic loss of so many of his soldiers, a great number of those who had survive had chosen to sail into the West and had recently departed, leaving the grand Halls of the Woodland Realm that much emptier. The time of the elves was over, Thranduil knew, and being honest with himself, his heart too now lay across the sea. For a good many centuries now had Thranduil heard the call of the sea, but he was stronger than that. He had to be. He could not leave Middle Earth until he knew how it would end for his kin, but he knew now that that time was growing closer. Events were now unfolding that could not be stopped. Many were bad, but not all, and those gave the King pause to stay.

“My Lord?” one of the servers asked, tapping politely at the door, “The Wizard is waiting in the Northern Solar.”

“I shall be there shortly,” Thranduil said, adjusting his robes in the mirror. He wore a richly brocaded robe of black threaded with silver and lined with navy blue satin, a blue tunic, and black trousers and boots. Fully dressed, he posed a much more majestic figure. “Breakfast has been served?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Tell the Wizard I shan’t be long.”

“Very good, my Lord.”

Thranduil took a silver circlet of entwined branches from the dresser, placed it on his head and looked once more in the mirror, drawing himself up to his full height. The King breathed in, filling his lungs all the way to the bottom, exhaled, then went to find the Wizard. He imagined that wine would have been provided. 

“Ah, Mithrandir,” Thranduil said, as he entered the solar some minutes later. He gestured for the Wizard to take a seat at the table, which, Thranduil was glad to see, had a generous breakfast laid upon it, along with two decanters of wine, one red, the other white. “I pray you have not been waiting long,” the King said, knowing perfectly well how long the Wizard had been waiting. Thranduil and Gandalf had had an interesting relationship over the years. Many years ago, the two had been close, but of later centuries the King and found the Wizard to be little but a prophet of doom, and Gandalf found the once outgoing and confident elf to be reclusive and stubborn. But now Gandalf was here with counsel and news that Thranduil much wished to here, and past grievances were best put aside. The King’s remaining counsellors were few, and his confidents fewer still. 

“No, no,” Gandalf said politely, glad to be seated and about to eat, “No matter waiting.”

“Very well,” Thranduil said, flicking back his sleeves before pouring himself and the Wizard a goblet of wine and setting about making up a plate of breakfast. Thranduil cut himself a generous slice of fresh white bread and coated it with a thick layer of cream cheese, followed by apple slices and a drizzle of honey. The wizard busied himself with a hard-boiled egg. 

They ate mostly in silence, each making just the odd remark about the pleasant spring which had just past, and comments on the quality of the wine and other such neutral topics. Once they were done, the table was cleared and both parties knew the conversation must change to more serious matters.

“What word from the west?” Thranduil asked, folding his long legs.

“Word of your son?” Gandalf asked, feigning confusion.

Thranduil waved his hand in such a manner that Gandalf understood the elf to mean for him to continue and not ask such daft questions.

“There has been word,” Gandalf said, a little conspiratorially, “I heard as much in Bree. I was passing by there after I returned the halfling to the Shire. The barman said he has seen young boys look to be up to less mischief than the man and the elf that had passed through there some weeks prior.”

“They were quite far south,” Thranduil mused.

“For the winter, yes. Word is they’ve now returned north.” Gandalf looked at the King and tried to decipher his expression, but whatever Thranduil was thinking, he was keeping to himself. Gandalf continued. “Throughout the western plains men have seen a Ranger travelling with an elf. It is no secret that Aragorn and Legolas are out there, and working together quite effectively too, by the sounds of things.”

“Good,” Thranduil said and gave slight nod. “Yes, that is good.”

“You’d have liked the halfling.”

“The one the stole my keys?” Thranduil asked.

“He’s a very good lad, really,” Gandalf said, defending his little friend. “Elves and hobbits have more in common than I think to two care to realise. Hobbits are a peaceful folk, they like to keep themselves to themselves and generally don’t care for the outside world.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, unsure as to whether Gandalf was mocking him or not.

“But most of all,” the Wizard continued, not noticing the small change in Thranduil’s demeanour, “Hobbits love nothing more than that which is good and green and grows.”

“There has been little here that is good, green or growing for some time,” Thranduil said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. 

Gandalf pulled out his pipe and went to light it.

“I’d really prefer if you didn’t,” Thranduil said.

“I’d really prefer you tell me why you called me here,” Gandalf said, his tone that of a teacher questioning a difficult pupil, and pocketed the pipe once more, knowing that elves did not favour the habit, “For it was not to discuss the mannerisms of halflings, I am sure.”

Thranduil slowly unfolded his legs and stood up, facing away from the Wizard. “I am spent, Gandalf,” the King confessed. “I am done. I am all but ready to depart these shores and head into the sunset.”

“So what makes you stay?” Gandalf asked, now wishing that he had addressed Thranduil in a kinder manner. 

Thranduil studied the intricate carvings in the wall to avoid having to look at the Wizard. For a long time, he had not been able to answer that question, even too himself. He had nothing left to give, and had heard the call across the sea. So why linger? “Estel.”

“The boy or the concept?” Gandalf asked.

Thranduil turned back around. “Both,” he said. “When first I heard that was the name which Elrond had given the boy, I thought it absurd. But then it grew on me, a light I no longer knew I had, it flickered and grew. I thought such a thing long extinguished from my life. I believed it to be completely when Legolas said he…” Thranduil paused and collected his thoughts. He ran his fingers along the back of his chair. For a time, while within the ruins of Dale, Thranduil believed Legolas lost to him forever. The King had had but one more chance, with the slightest of odds that Legolas would listen to him one more time. “It was with great joy that I received word from Elrond of Rivendell that Legolas had passed through the Last Homely House. He said that Legolas was not clear of mind nor wholly himself, but that I already knew.”  
“Why Aragorn? Of all the heirs of Elendil, why this one?” Gandalf asked.

“I knew his father,” Thranduil said, sitting back down and crossing his legs once more, “He was a good man, but the time was not ripe, and Arathorn was killed too soon. Evil and darkness spread and grow throughout the land. The Ring of Power must be found and destroyed. Aragorn must be restored to his ancestral position.”

Gandalf furrowed his brow. It had been a long time since he had heard the Elven King speak with such conviction. “I did not know that Thranduil of the Woodland Realm was such a believer in men.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. It was true that for a long time, Thranduil had considered men to be weak and faithless. Ever since Isildur had failed to destroy the Ring. During those seven long years within the shadow of Mordor, so much suffering and sorrow and pain and loss had occurred… Thranduil pulled his mind back to the solar. He could not let his thoughts travel south, for there his memories were too dark and, even after so many years, too painful to bear. “Generally, I am not. But I must believe Aragorn to be different. I am glad Legolas has befriended him. I await the day on which my son shall return home, and perhaps bring this Ranger with him.”

Gandalf looked at the King.“Yes,” Gandalf said, and a smile creeping onto his lips. “Yes, I do believe that Lord Elrond was right in the naming of the boy,” he nodded, “Estel.”  
Thranduil too found his lips turning up into a smile, despite his efforts to keep a straight face. He could feel a warmth burning inside his chest, and it was not the wine he’d had with breakfast. “Hope.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank-you so much for the kudos and comments :)
> 
> Now, back to the adventures of Legolas and Aragorn. Enjoy.

The months passed and Legolas and Aragorn ranged the northern plains of Middle Earth. Winter had turned to spring, spring into summer and now summer was slowly giving way to autumn. The days were still warm, but the hours of daylight were quickly reducing as they approached the Equinox.

Aragorn, who had by no means wanted a partner, now failed to recall how he had survived the previous years without the elven archer by his side. He almost could have sworn he’d known Legolas since childhood. The Prince had given Aragorn many a pointer on archery, and Aragorn’s skill in that field had grown exponentially. Aragorn found Legolas easy to talk to and confine in, telling the elf many stories of his childhood in Rivendell, and of the past ten years he had spend ranging and travelling throughout Middle Earth, including one winter when he travelled all the way south to the White City itself. There were only two topics he would not discuss, and Legolas never pushed him: that of his relationship with the Lady Arwen, and him being heir to the Throne of Gondor.

Legolas, for his part, felt a changed completely. Not changed to anything new, but rather back to his former self of many years ago, before the sickness had begun to destroy the Greenwood Forest and corrupt all there that was green and good. Crossing atop the peaks of rocky, rolling hills, Legolas felt lighter and more at peace than he had for a very long time. The fresh, clean air, food freshly caught or foraged, and sleeping every night beneath the stars had all helped to reverse the effects of the poisoned forest surrounding his home. 

Also, Legolas thought, watching Aragorn stride across the uneven ground a few paces in front of him, there was the company. Aragorn may not be the King that Lord Elrond had hoped for, but he was definitely the friend that Legolas needed. The Prince was more than confident to confide in the Ranger stories of even his darkest times; when his mother was killed, when his father came so very close to dying of wounds, of Ravenhill and Tauriel. Aragorn listened and he never judged, and he never pitied. Legolas enjoyed being in the man’s company. He neither had to lead the man the way he had led troops of elves, nor did he feel as though he was being dragged around by the Ranger. In one another’s company, they were equals. 

Aragorn stopped atop a crest and looked back. “What are you smiling at?” he called against the wind in Sindarian. The two seldom spoke to one another in the common tongue. 

“I did not realise I was,” Legolas called back honestly, now grinning.

Aragorn grinned broadly back at his friend. “I say we make for the woods down there.”

Legolas caught up with his friend. “I see a river. We need to restock our water supplies. Yes, we make for the forest.”

“Last one down the hill has to start the fire!” Aragorn said, jumping from the ridge then running down the side of the grassy hill.

Legolas was the faster of the two, and even with a head-start, Aragorn was unlikely to win. “You should find wood easily on the forest floor!” Legolas called after him, leaping down the hill, quickly gaining ground on the Ranger. 

Later that evening, as the sun disappeared behind the trees, the two sat by the fire which Aragorn had made, content after a dinner of grilled fish which had been caught by Legolas in the river nearby, and mushrooms. 

“Tomorrow,” Aragorn said, crossing his legs, “I think we head west. I do not believe us to be more than a day or two from the coast, and I very much feel like oysters.”

Legolas smiled and leant back against the tree behind him. “I thought Rangers were supposed to protect the country and the people, not travel around seeking out the culinary highlights of the land,” he teased lightly.

“And I thought pointy-eared princelings were supposed to stay within their Realms and generally behave themselves, not go out hiking over hill and rocky country with exiled men,” Aragorn laughed.

Legolas laughed, before it the smile fell from his face. His eyes went wide and he jumped to his feet, grabbing his bow which lay beside him.

“What?” Aragorn asked, looking around.

“Put the fire out,” Legolas whispered hurriedly.

Aragorn stood up. “Why?”

“Aragorn!” Legolas hissed urgently.

“Alright,” Aragorn said, noticing something in the Prince’s voice which gave him pause. He kicked dirt over the fire, extinguishing the flame. He was annoyed; that was a good fire he’d started. “What’s going on?” he asked, coming up behind Legolas. He looked in the same direction as the Prince, but saw nothing.

“We must leave now,” Legolas whispered.

“Why? Is - is that horse? Riders? Are they dangerous?” Aragorn asked, seeing two shadows upon horseback through the growing darkness.

“We must return to Rivendell at once,” Legolas said. He turned back to the extinguished camp fire and hurriedly picked up his few possessions. Aragorn did the same.

“Why? How do we know they are not friends? What are they?”

“Can you not feel their presence? Hurry.”

“Legolas!” Aragorn hissed, grabbing his friend by the forearm. Legolas turned and Aragorn saw terror in the face of the Prince. Even through his clothing, Aragorn could feel that Legolas had turned rigid and cold. “What are they?” he asked again.

“Black riders,” Legolas said, feeling a shiver go through him.

“They’re what?”

“The Nine. Wraiths.” Legolas hurried away from the forest, back toward the rolling hills they had crossed earlier in the day.

“But - they’re not real!” Aragon said, running to keep up. “Legolas, they were killed. Their corpses locked away. They - they don’t exist!” he exclaimed, certain he had his histories right. 

“I thought so too,” Legolas said, “But I know what I saw.”

“If they are the Nine, where are the other seven?” Aragorn questioned. 

“Four are down there, you could have only seen two. I myself could barely see all four. There are five more out here. We must make for Rivendell.”

“We are are at least a week north-west of there.”

“We have no choice,” Legolas said, “They must be warned. Wraiths roaming Middle Earth is not some trifle matter.”

“Will they follow us?”

“I do not believe so, but that does not mean I do not wish to get as much distance between us and them as possible.”

“Should we not go back and fight?” Aragorn asked. 

“How?” Legolas said. “You said it yourself, they don’t exist. No, mellon-nin, there is no way to defeat that which is already dead. No matter what we do, they will return. We must get word to Rivendell.”

“But what are they doing?” Aragorn asked, puffing at the pace Legolas was setting up the hill. “Why are they here?”

“The Ring of Power has been found,” Legolas said, not even breaking a sweat. He still felt cold. There was a darkness which came with the Nine that he longed to be far from. “They are ever drawn to it. Ever searching for it. They cannot rest until they find it.”

“And they believe it to be int he wilder lands of Arnor?”

“I have no answer to that,” Legolas said.

“We should go back and fight.”

“Aragorn!” Legolas cried, stopping and turning back to his friend. Aragorn was glad to stop, even if just for a moment. “Please. You must trust me. Know that I would not flee unless that were the only option. We must alert Lord Elrond. I did not realise the situation was so dire. Forgive me, if I have scared you, but we must head south with all haste.”

Aragorn studied Legolas’s face for a moment. He had never seen the elf look like this before, so frightened and unnerved, with such desperation in his voice. Aragorn gave a nod. “Of course,” he said, “Forgive my questioning. You have my trust,” the Ranger said honestly. 

Legolas forced the smallest of smiles. “I believe we can make it to Rivendell by the fourth morn if we hurry.”

“Lucky we ate when we did,” Aragorn said, a rue grin appearing upon his face.“Southwards we go.”


	8. Chapter 8

Shortly after dawn on the fourth morning, exhausted and hungry, Legolas and Aragorn approached the outskirts of Rivendell. 

“We’ve seen no guard,” Aragorn mused. They approached Rivendell from the north, and entered the valley via the underground tunnel below the plains, which opened up into the canyon where the city of Imladris lay. 

“They know we’re here,” Legolas said. They may not have seen any of Lord Elrond’s scouts, but knew that word would have reached the Lord’s ears of their imminent arrival, just as Legolas’s arrival had many months prior.

Rivendell in all its splendour now lay before them in the morning sun, with many of the trees showing just the slightest golden autumn glow.

“My Lords,” a herald said, coming around a corner of the cliff, “You are well met. Rivendell is at your disposal.”

“Is Lord Elrond available?” Legolas asked, not allowing the beauty of the morning affect the sharpness of his manner, “I must speak with him at once. The matter is of grave urgency.”

“He is, as far as I am aware,” the herald replied, “If you will with me, I have been instructed to see you washed and fed.”

Legolas frowned. “Let us to the city. There is no time for this.” He pushed past the herald and followed the winding track towards Rivendell. 

Aragorn kept close to the Prince. “You do not think you were a bit short with him?” he asked quietly, hoping the herald would not overhear. 

“There is not time. I will not be avoided by Lord Elrond.”

“Why would he be avoiding you?” Aragorn asked.

“Because once more I feel I come with questions he wishes to avoid,” the Prince replied.

Aragorn pondered his friend’s comments and followed him down to the home of his childhood. Seeing Rivendell again both pained his heart and filled it with gladness. The conflicting emotions confused the Ranger and he wished to be gone of the place, but they were here now, and he trusted Legolas’s motives. Perhaps some good would come of their stay.

Not long after they crossed the narrow stone bridge across the ravine into Rivendell’s main entrance. “Well met, my Lords!” Elrohir called, Elladan beside him, each twin touching his hand to his heart, then holding it out to the travellers. Legolas and Aragorn returned to gesture. 

“Well met indeed,” Elladan said. “It is some time, brother Estel. And Legolas, of course. We are glad of your return.”

“It is only on Legolas’s word that I am here,” Aragorn said, wishing he didn’t sound so blunt, as he was glad to see the twins once more. 

“Where is your father?” Legolas asked, “I must speak with him at once.”

“Would you not rather refresh yourselves first?” Elrohir smiled.

“Would you rather I shove you into the ravine, then find your father for myself?” Legolas asked curtly.

“Very well,” Elrohir said, putting up his hands to show he meant to harm, and forgiving Legolas his for bad manners, “We will take you to him.”

The four marched up the steps winding through the gardens of Rivendell and into the halls. 

“Ada, we have much welcome guests,” Elrohir said, entering Lord Elrond’s chambers, followed closely by Legolas, Aragorn and Elladan.

“Well met,” Lord Elrond said, standing up from his desk, his back to the four friends. He turned, his eyes catching Legolas’s first. “What’s happened?” he asked, sensing something was terribly wrong.

“Black riders. Four of them in the north-west wilds, four nights past. We made for Rivendell with all haste,” Legolas said, wasting no time.

Lord Elrond looked and saw Aragorn standing behind Legolas and Elrohir. “Ah,” said the Lord, “Did you see them too?” he asked Aragorn.

“Only two,” Aragorn said. He could smell freshly baked bread somewhere nearby, and prayed the elves present did not hear his growling stomach.

“The light was fading, and I myself could barely make out the other two,” Legolas said. “My Lord, I tell naught but the truth. I know it sounds like feverish imaginings, but I know what they were. I could feel it.”

“Have no fear, I do not doubt you, Lord Legolas,” Lord Elrond said. He shook his head sadly. “I know exactly what it is that you saw.”

“Black Riders?” Elladan asked, “Do you mean Wraiths?”

“But they were killed,” Elrohir said, worry clear in his voice, looking between his father and Legolas. “Their corpses locked away…”

“No,” Lord Elrond said, “Legolas is right. I too have seen them.”

“What does this mean?” Elladan asked.

“When did you see them?” Aragorn asked.

“When I arrived at Rivendell after coming from the east,” Legolas said, looking at Lord Elrond, remembering how the Lord had ridden out early in the morning the day after he had arrived in Rivendell.

“One of our scouts, the same one who saw you approaching, saw three Riders in the distance,” Lord Elrond said, “I had to see to you first, but once I knew you were safe, it is my duty as Lord to protect my people. That day we saw five of the nine not two hours north here, very close to the Misty Mountains.”

“Were they tracking Legolas?” Elladan asked.

Lord Elrond shook his head. “A coincidence, I believe.”

Aragorn shuffled his feet and leant against the doorframe. 

“Perhaps someone could see Aragorn fed and to bed,” Legolas said, giving his exhausted friend a small smile. “Men are not made for hikes such as the one we undertook of late.”

“Of course,” Lord Elrond said.

“We’ll take him,” Elladan said, giving Elrohir a small nudge, “Come, brother, let’s get you to bed.”

Aragorn gave Legolas a small nod of thanks as he departed with the twins.

“You said you felt them,” Lord Elrond said to Legolas, re-taking the seat at his desk.

Legolas moved around the room and sat down by the window. “Yes,” he said, “Yet I did not feel the riders before I arrived here.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I believe you already know the answer to that,” Lord Elrond replied.

Legolas turned sideways on the seat and looked out the window. The morning sun turned Rivendell to a city of gold. He could smell late season roses mixed herbs from the nearby kitchen gardens. Rivendell was beauty and light perfected. “The darkness that grows throughout my father’s Realm,” Legolas said, “Through the Mirkwood, it - the dwarves. They were in the forest for mere hours before it began to seep into their minds and drive them mad. Our kind are thankfully more resistant, but I - so many years I spent out fighting in that evil infected place.” Legolas sighed.

“Here,” Lord Elrond said. He stood up and moved to one of the cupboards, pulled out a decanter of white wine and poured a glass each for Legolas and himself. 

Legolas gave a nod of thanks and sipped the sweet drink. “So many years, I did not see it happening. I did not notice it clouding my own mind. I could not feel the Black Riders before because…”

“You were already so muddled, that their presence would not effect you. But you did feel them now, for which I am glad.”

“I believe I may have been rude, or acted out of character toward you and yours when last I was here,” Legolas said, “Please accept my apology for any offence I may have caused.”

The corners of Lord Elrond’s mouth twitched, betraying a smile. “Of all the stubborn, cranky, old elves I have known, Legolas Greenleaf, you are far from the top of that list. You should go with the others. Eat and rest.”

Legolas finished his wine. “Elladan asked earlier, what does this mean? Black Riders returned?”

Lord Elrond put his glass down and looked at the Prince. “Sauron has returned. He is no longer vanquished.” The Lord proceeded to tell Legolas all that had occurred at Dul Guldur, and what he knew of the Sauron, the Black Riders and the Ring. “It is only a matter of time before we find ourselves at war.”

“How much time have we got?” Legolas asked, knowing that although Lord Elrond did not say as such, much would depend upon Aragorn. 

“Years? Decades? I cannot tell. It all depends on the movements of the Ring of Power.”

“And we do not know where it is?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Legolas asked desperately.

“So many questions,” Lord Elrond sighed, “I don’t know. The power of the Elves is fading. I’m sorry to say it, Legolas, but I don’t know what to do.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those for the comments and kudos. And thanks to all the readers in general. It makes me very happy to know people are out there reading and enjoying what I write. Enjoy the next instalment!

Legolas sat down on his bed and broke open the seal on the letter. Night had fallen, and it was by the light of the candelabra in his bedroom that the Prince unfolded the single piece of paper. At once he had recognised Tauriel's loopy, scrawling handwriting and smiled at it, despite the pain in his heart. The letter bore the Rivendell seal, and had been written on Rivendell paper, with Rivendell ink. Legolas wondered briefly why Tauriel had not left him the letter in his father's Halls.

_My dear Legolas,_

_By the time you read this, I will have departed Middle Earth and sailed west to Valinor. It was my own decision to leave. After the events at Ravenhill, I heard the call across the sea, and chose to follow it. Do not blame yourself as I know in part you will; there is nothing you could have done to change the outcome of that day, or my actions afterwards._

_Protect and fight for that which is good in this world. There is so much good, Legolas. There is darkness and danger and evil as well, of course, but good always triumphs, does it not? Part of me wishes I could be there to continue the good fight with you, but I have given my all and have found my peace. I pray you find love and friendship and happiness and hope. Fight for these things for they are worth every breath. You deserve them._

_My heart breaks for what I have lost, but I regret none of my actions. This was my path, my choosing, and I would not change a moment of it. I shall await your arrival, one day, upon a distant shore where we shall meet once more._

_Yours, Tauriel._

Legolas finished reading and put the letter down on the bed beside him. He felt strange, as though he were both empty and full at once. He looked at his hands. Legolas had no desire to leave Middle Earth. He felt no call across the sea. He closed his eyes. He knew where he must travel next. Earlier in the day, Legolas had ended up spending a few hours in the study talking with Lord Elrond whilst Aragorn had eaten, bathed and slept. After a meal and bath himself, Legolas told Aragorn all he had learnt. They could wait a week before moving on, a fortnight at most, although Aragorn would likely wish to leave sooner rather than later.

The Prince stood up and wandered out onto the balcony. The cool evening breeze drifted around him, lightly blowing his hair. The bright moon masked many of the stars in its light, but still the night was beautiful. A small smile crept onto Legolas's lips. Never in any light was Rivendell anything but beautiful. Now, bathed in moonlight, the multiple waterfalls cascading down into the ravine below glowed silver. The breeze pushed fallen leaves against the Prince's bare feet.

"Legolas?"

Legolas turned around and saw Aragorn's silhouette in the bedroom. "Out here." He felt more himself now after spending a little time outside, and was glad for the company.

Aragorn pushed past the light curtains and stepped out onto the balcony. He came and stood beside Legolas, and looked out across the city and into the night. "How come your room has a better view than mine?"

"It befits my station, no doubt?" Legolas teased. He wanted to be happy, and found it easy to be so in the company of the Ranger.

Aragorn smiled and gave his friend a nudge. "I have just been at supper. You will never believe what was served."

"What?" Legolas asked, humouring his friend.

"Freshwater oysters," Aragorn grinned. He looked less rugged after a bath, a shave, his hair combed and in a clean brocaded tunic and trousers. "Not as good as the ocean variety, mind you, but since we missed that little detour…"

Legolas could smell on the Ranger's breath that something a little more potent than oysters had been served at supper and laughed. "I hope my presence was not greatly missed." He had avoided the meal on purpose, having supped on a light meal earlier in the evening, and preferring for his own company for a little while at least. He would surely have time enough with his Rivendell friends.

"Not at all," Aragorn said, "The twins and others present were more than happy to hear tales of my epic adventures."

"Such as the time you ended up waist-deep in slimy marsh water after I told you that going that way would not be a short-cut?"

"I may have omitted that one," Aragorn laughed.Legolas smiled. Aragorn had not laughed at the time, and Legolas had wondered where the Ranger had learnt such creative curse words. "But you were not the only apology at supper," Aragorn continued.

"Who else?" Legolas asked, wondering who else may have been absent.

"Lord Elrond. Highly conspicuous by high absence," Aragorn said, "And what is the point," Aragorn asked boisterously, waving his arms about, "Of your folk living for thousands upon thousands of years if when something like this happens, you still have no idea as to what to do?"

Legolas learnt against the balustrade and looked up at the stars, and felt that strange empty-full feeling return. He knew as to what the Ranger was referring. "Events such as this have never before occurred in Middle Earth," Legolas said. What was happening could spell the end of all things, should Sauron succeed. Not even Lord Elrond, as wise and as old as he was could find a clear way out of all the trouble. Legolas knew that Aragorn spoke half in jest, but there were many truths in what the Ranger said too.

"Something bothers you, does it not?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas looked at his friend.

"Is it the letter?"

"You read it?" Legolas accused, taking offence. True, he had left it lying open on the bed, but all the same that letter was not for prying eyes.

"Of course not," Aragorn said honestly. "I saw only your name and that of the author. Such words are not for my eyes."

Legolas nodded. He felt relived, and also foolish for suspecting Aragorn would betray his privacy. Surely he knew and trusted the Ranger more than that by now. "Tauriel has sailed to Valinor. She is long gone now, but she found her peace."

Aragorn gave Legolas a friendly nudge on the arm. Legolas forced a smile. Aragorn smiled warmly, and did not feel the need to say anything. The two stood, watching the stars for some time.

"Where to next?" Aragorn asked breaking the silence. He turned and looked at Legolas. "Lord Elrond and I can only avoid one another for so long before it looks suspicious. I cannot linger here."

Legolas nodded. "We continue east."

"East?" Aragorn asked, "We do not return north? We have some months before winter falls."

"Exactly, so we must cross the mountains before the snows begin."

Aragorn furrowed his brow."How far east are we to go?"

"Is your head so muddled by the wine that you need me to say it, mellon-nin?" Legolas smiled.

"Really?" Aragorn asked, raising his eyebrows, before a yawn escaped him.

"Really," Legolas said. "Go and sleep. We must stay at least a week out of courtesy."

Aragorn nodded. "I shall see you on the morn. Bright and early. I wish to show up the twins in the training yard."

"Sleep well."

"Do you intend to sleep tonight?" Aragorn asked. "Go, or it shall be dawn, and you still on out here!"

"Goodnight," Aragorn said, and disappeared back through Legolas's chamber. The Prince turned back to the stars. He would not sleep tonight; gazing at the stars, bursting with memory and wisdom, would provide rest enough. Legolas prayed they would show him the way. The evening breeze kissed his cheeks and swirled his hair. Legolas smiled. The stars would lead him home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for the kudos and comments.
> 
> Also, if you spot any spelling/grammar mistakes, please let me know and be specific about where they are so I can quickly fix them! I try to catch most of them in editing, but some still get through. Thank-you :)

Aragorn adjusted the pack on his back. They had departed Rivendell at dawn, but already the weight of the load he carried was bothering him. Admittedly, it didn’t really weight all that much, and almost all of the goods and provisions were for his benefit, but it was just annoying as much as it was heavy.  
“Come on!” Legolas called, some distance ahead. The day was sunny and bright, though a fierce wind blew through the hills. 

“We should have brought a pony!” Aragorn called back, the wind carrying his words away.

“We can always go back!” Legolas teased, his hair blowing away from his face.

Aragorn pulled a strand of hair out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear, despite knowing it would not stay. With every step away from Rivendell, the Ranger felt more relaxed. Perhaps he was running from his responsibilities, refusing to embrace his birthright, but it was nothing he wanted. “Keep walking!” he called ruefully. The Prince grinned, and continued on. Despite the pack, Aragorn was more than happy to be out in the wild again, dressed in his old, soft leathers, the wind tangling his hair, grass and rock underfoot. Out in the wild, he felt at home. 

They reached the Misty Mountains in some days later, having taken their time whilst the good weather held, but now that they were in the mountains, Legolas did not wish to linger. Autumn weather could be unpredictable and change in an instant, and rain or snow on the rocks would become treacherously slippery, even for the elf. But there were things in the mountains even more dangerous than slippery wet rock, and Legolas wished to make the crossing as quickly as possible. 

Legolas led the way along the narrow pass, high rock cliffs to their left, and a very long drop down the mountains to their right. “Something is on your mind,” he said to Aragorn as dawn rose on their second day crossing through the mountains. The Ranger had been dawdling ever since they resumed their march at first light an hour ago. The snowy peaks glowed pink and gold as the sun rose, the winds having blown away all the mist, and clear blue skies were visible in all directions. 

“I am fine,” Aragorn said, continuing on. 

“You are distracted. The mountains can be dangerous. You must have your wits about you,” Legolas said, coming to a stop. He had already seen two orc sentries amongst the rock, quickly dispatching them with a well-placed arrow before the foul creatures could have so much as smelt the elf and man in the distance. 

“It is impossible,” Aragorn said, stopping beside Legolas, his voice as far off as his mind.

“Keeping your concentration?” Legolas asked lightly, “It is a long fall off the ledge.”

“I told her it is but a dream,” Aragorn said, not listening at all to the Prince’s words, and looked earnestly at Legolas. “It can only be a dream.”

Legolas bided his time before replying. He was not sure what to make of the relationship between Aragorn and Arwen. Could they both be serious? It was folly, surely. It could never last. That thought made Legolas’s heart ache. The relationship between Aragorn and Arwen, whatever they thought it to be, could not be eternal. And neither could he range the wilds of Middle Earth eternally with his newfound friend. These morbid thoughts had passed through Legolas’s mind before, but he preferred to ignore them. “Is it a good dream?” he asked finally.

Aragorn gave a wry smile. “It can’t be. She said she,” he sighed and shook his head, “Never mind. I do not wish to discuss it.”

Legolas gave a nod, respecting Aragorn’s privacy. “We continue on. It is morning is fine for walking. I had almost forgotten how beautiful an alpine sunrise could be,” the Prince said, looking toward the sun, which was now appearing above the mountains in front of them. 

“And I had almost forgotten how poetically annoying elves can be,” Aragorn teased, forcing thoughts of Arwen from his mind.

Legolas smiled. “Come, mellon-nin, we still have many leagues ahead.”

As they passed through the mountains the good weather had continued. Some days later the forest of Mirkwood came into view, and they entered it where Legolas knew they elven path to be. The pair had been journeying through the forest for some hours, Legolas moving at close to a jog, as he wished to get himself and Aragorn out of the sickness of the forest and to the safety of his father’s Halls, even with part of him dreading the prospect of his homecoming. 

Aragorn wore a scarf pulled up over his nose and mouth, but despite this, he was beginning to feel light headed. Legolas had forewarned him that the very air within Mirkwood was toxic, and now Aragorn fully believed him. “Legolas?” he asked, his voice sounding thick and far away, as if it came from another. 

“Yes?” Legolas replied, slowing his pace for a moment, all of his senses fully alert, watching the shadows for any signs of spiders or creatures fouler still. 

Aragorn closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and then opened them again. The world around him seemed almost entirely devoid of colour, yet much too highly saturated at the same time. He felt like swimming, jumping in the nearby stream in all his clothes and flying with the squirrels through the mountains made of long grass above the clouds of spring daisies - “Legolas!”

“What happened?” Legolas asked, stopping and turning to his friend.

“Talk to me. Tell me a story,” Aragorn said urgently.

“What story?” the Prince asked, confused at the request.

“Anything. I don’t care. A children’s story. A scary story. A true story. Make something up. I just need you to talk, else I lose my mind. I need something to concentrate on.”

“Aragorn, are you well?”

“Not entirely,” Aragorn answered, deciding that honesty was the best course of action. There was no point in telling Legolas was fine, when his mind was spinning madly. “Let us keep moving. Move and talk.”

Legolas turned back to the track and began slowly on. “How about the tale of Maedhros and Fingon?”

“That is fine.”

“Do you already know it? If so, I can tell another.”

“No, I mean, parts of, I - I’ve not heard it told by you. Please Legolas, this place is too much. Let your words take my mind elsewhere.”

“Very well,” the Prince said, again picking up the pace and beginning the story. Aragorn kept up with the Prince and hung of Legolas’s every word, as though his words could carry the Ranger above the sickness of the forest. It was not until Legolas stopped talking did Aragorn notice that his surrounds were somewhat changed. The air felt lighter, the treetop canopy was not so heavy and some daylight managed to find its way through. 

“Did you know them?” he asked Legolas. The way the Prince spoke of those ancient elves who had lived and fought and died millennia ago was as though Legolas himself had been there.

Legolas laughed. “No, I am not so very old, mellon-nin. My father did, however. I know the tales from him. He knew Maedhros reasonably well, I believe.”

“It is impossible to imagine that your father knew both Maedhros and my father,” Aragorn said. 

Legolas nodded. “Lord Elrond knew them all too. My father and he are close in age. Close for elves, anyhow. There,” the Prince said, coming to a halt. “Can you see it?” he pointed to somewhere up ahead.

Aragorn looked carefully in the direction indicated by the Prince. Through the trees he could just make out what looked to be a bridge.

“They know we are near,” Legolas said, continuing on. “We shall arrive shortly.”

Aragorn jogged a few steps to keep up with the Legolas and wondered for how long exactly the Prince had been telling the story. Had it not been night? What day was it now? Aragorn shook his head and decided not to think too hard about it. He still felt muddled and light-headed, even if they were now in a greener section of the forest. 

“Welcome,” Legolas said, unable to keep a feeling of pride from rising within him. They had rounded a bend in a track, allowing Aragorn a better view of the main entrance to the Halls of the Woodland Realm. “To the Realm of the Woodland King. Welcome, Aragorn, to my home.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a long one today! Enjoy :)

The entrance to the Woodland Realm loomed before them as Aragorn and Legolas approached the kingdom. The guards at the door recognised their Prince by sight, and opened the doors for the two to enter.

"My Lord Legolas," a brown-haired elf said, stepping forward to greet them.

"Well met, Elrosse," Legolas said in greeting. "We require urgent audience with my father."

"Of course, my Lord," Elrosse said, "If you will follow me. The King is in the throne room."

Legolas followed Elrosse, Aragorn close behind, marvelling at the sight before him. Legolas's descriptions of the Halls of the Woodland Realm had not come close to preparing the Ranger for what he now saw. It seemed to be lighter within the Halls than it had outside, rock carved into pillars which reached staggering heights and carved to make archways and walkways and balconies, pathways wound throughout the vast space of what was, technically, a cave with thin waterfalls cascading throughout.

"Aragorn," Legolas said.

"Oh," Aragorn breathed, taking in the beauty of the Prince's home.

Legolas smiled. "Close your mouth," he whispered.

Aragorn snapped his teeth together, and then grinned at the Prince. Legolas smiled and continued along the winding pathway. He looked around his home, and tried to see it with fresh eyes, the way Aragorn was. The waterfalls, the lighting streaming in from above, places where you could see a hundred feet down, and a hundred feet up. The Halls of King Thranduil truly were a wonder of elven engineering and architecture.

Aragorn gave Legolas a nudge, "Is that it?" he asked, gesturing to what looked like a room floating right in the very middle of the Halls, his voice full of awe.

"My father's throne room and out destination, aye," Legolas replied.

"My imagination did not do your home justice," Aragorn breathed.

"I can tell," Legolas smiled.

A few minutes later they approached the throne room. "My Lord Thranduil," Elrosse said by way of introduction.

King Thranduil, who stood before them, turned and faced the guests. "Ah," he said. "Leave us," the King commanded, and Elrosse and the two guards near by took their leave.

Aragorn forced himself to look composed, when he was in fact still completely in awe of his surroundings, and now also of the majestic King.

"So Legolas of the Woodland Realm returns, and brings with him a welcome guest," Thranduil said formally. Aragorn was unsure as to whether he was supposed to say anything or not, so stayed silent. "Aragorn of the Dúnedain," Thranduil said, "You are most welcome to the Woodland Realm."

Aragorn gave an embarrassed bow. He noticed that the only chair in the space was the King's throne positioned high above the platform on which they stood, embellished by a pair of massive elk antlers. Aragorn tried to catch Legolas's eyes for a hint of what he was supposed to be doing, but Legolas looked straight at his father. "It is an honour to meet you," Aragorn said awkwardly.

"You come with news from west," Thranduil said. He would suffer no niceties, preferring to get straight to matters of business.

"We come from Rivendell," Legolas said. He looked at his father and made a mental note of the fact that the King was completely unarmed.

"You come with news of Black Riders."

"You know?" Legolas asked, not completely surprised. The Prince found his father's expression difficult to read, but that was not uncommon. Thranduil had long mastered the skill of not allowing others to know what he was thinking if he did not wish it.

"Mithrandir passed through here early in the summer. Where he headed hence, I know not. It may do us well to share our intelligence," Thranduil said.

Legolas and Aragorn set about telling the King what they knew from Lord Elrond, and the King occasionally added a piece of his own knowledge.

"Well, that is all most enlightening," Thranduil said once the travellers had finished telling all they knew.

"You have not heard from Lord Elrond of late?" Legolas asked.

"Not since the summer solstice, when a number of my people passed through Rivendell on their way to the Grey Havens," the King replied stiffly, "And that correspondence contained little in the way of such serious concerns."

Legolas nodded. Now he was home, the Prince could see how loss of so many of the Woodland folk both within the shadow of Erebor and then to the Grey Havens had made the Halls that much emptier.

"Here," Thranduil said, and gave a wave of his hand. A moment later, Elrosse reappeared. "Show Lord Aragorn to his quarters. See to it that his is fed."

"Very well, my King. Come with me, my Lord," Elrosse said.

Aragorn gave a confused look at Legolas, who gave the Ranger an encouraging nod. Aragorn followed Elrosse away from the throne room, grateful to be set to receive a proper meal. Legolas and Thranduil stood in a tense silence for a few minutes. Once he was sure there were no ears near by to overhear, the King spoke.

"You returned sooner than I thought you would," he said, still very formal.

"With events happening such as they are, I had little choice. The Woodland Realm had to be warned. Someone had to come."

Thranduil began to pace across the throne room. "Elrond could have sent the twins or Lindir or any one of his household. You nominated yourself."

Legolas did not reply. He watched as his father paced across the throne space.

"I see you recovered your knives," the King commented, briefly looking at his son.

"I retrieved them at Ravenhill. They were a special gift, Ada, not something lightly left behind."

Thranduil gave a slight nod and stopped pacing. He stood in silence for a moment, looking out across the Halls before turning to Legolas. "When I went to Ravenhill," he said, a hint of frailty and pain in his voice, "I hadn't expected – I thought I'd find you…"

"Amongst the dead," Legolas breathed, finishing his father's sentence, his eyes widening at this new understanding. For the first time, the Prince realised why his father had come to Ravenhill. He had never even considered about Thranduil's motives to be there. Now, however, it all seemed so obvious. "Ada, I…"

"Didn't know," Thranduil said, his usual steely sharpness returning to his tone. "You don't know."

"I know," Legolas said, trying to find the right words without making himself look a fool, "I know little of warfare. I did not think…"

"No. You didn't think," Thranduil snapped. "You went running up there with no thought of the possible consequences! You have been fortunate that during your lifetime the world had been in a state of relative peace. You have not had need to go to war. You have not lost. You have not been caught in the middle of a battlefield watching those you love get butchered around you. You have not been so close to saving them, yet not close enough to reach them before they are cut down and killed before your very eyes. You do not understand!" The King yelled.

Legolas kept eye contact with his father. There was little Thranduil had not given over his many years in defence of his people and Middle Earth. His father, his wife, friends and counsellors beyond count, his body, and yet, here the King still stood. "I ran out of arrows," Legolas said, not knowing if he meant it by way of excuse or apology.

Thranduil's eyes flashed quickly to the full quiver upon his son's back. "I know. Not only did you run out of arrows, but you lost your knives and gave away your sword. Did you believe yourself capable to take on such great numbers unarmed? What arrogance led you?"

Legolas bowed his head, feeling ashamed. He knew he deserved to be berated by his father. He had acted rashly, and without thought. He could have cost himself or others their lives. Such a dark fog had blanketed his mind, and now Legolas saw how actions could have done more harm than good. "Forgive me, Ada. I acted against your orders. I could have cost Tauriel her life. I was wrong to disobey you."

"It was war," Thranduil said, the sharp edge gone from his voice. He stepped forward and put his hand under Legolas's chin, lifting up his son's head. Legolas believed he could see hurt in his father's eyes. "Everything was wrong."

Legolas gave a small nod.

"Go," Thranduil said, turning back to his throne, "Dine with your friend. You are safe within these walls."

Legolas gave his father a stiff bow, then turned on his heel and retreated from the throne room.

"Is everything alright with your father?" Aragorn asked a few minutes later. Legolas found the Ranger with a plate full of food and a generous spread before him. The Prince, feeling deflated, collapsed down into the chair opposite Aragorn and made himself a plate of food.

"I knew what was coming. He's only mad because he was scared and he worries."

Aragorn nodded, his mouth full of roast potato.

"I do not know what he would have done if I had been killed. I cannot begin understand all that he has lost. It is not something I could ever comprehend." Legolas poked at the food on his plate, his shoulders slumped.

"You are here now, and he is thankful for that. You cannot change his past."

"I know, I just – perhaps I did return too soon," Legolas sighed.

"Did he ask anything about me?' Aragorn asked.

Legolas shook his head. "He knows who you are, and he knows that I know. He will leave you be," for the time being, the Prince decided against finishing the sentence.

A server entered with a jug of wine and placed it on the table in front of the Prince. Aragorn removed the stopper and poured a goblet for Legolas and one for himself. The Ranger went to drink when Legolas put out his hand to stop him.

"What?" Aragorn asked.

"You shouldn't."

"It is only wine. I won't have much," Aragorn said, fully aware the potency of elven wine.

Legolas leaned across the table and took Aragorn's goblet of wine, pouring a tiny splash of it into the glass of water the Ranger already had beside his meal. "Seriously?" Aragorn asked.

A smile crept onto Legolas's lips. "My father does not mess around when it comes to wine. Not even our Silvan compatriots can handle this," the Prince said, taking a sip of the deep red liquid, feeling its warmth travel down into his stomach.

Aragorn took a sip and despite the ratio of water to wine, he could at once feel the effects of the wine. "Where do you find this stuff?" he laughed. "Let me try some at full strength!"

"No, it will kill you," Legolas laughed, grabbing hold of his goblet.

"Say that with a straight face, and I'll believe you."

"I can't, you're making me laugh!"

"Legolas!" Aragorn laughed.

"This is not for mortal consumption. Eat your potatoes!"

…

Alone on his throne, Thranduil heard the echo of a laugh. Somewhere in his Halls, someone was happy. The King knew in his heart that the happiness came at least in part from his son. It had been long since he had heard Legolas laugh. Once, laughter and song had been the norm within these grand, cavernous Halls, but those days were now long past. Now the King sat alone, his Halls growing ever quieter and emptier.

Thranduil tapped his fingers slowly on the armrest of his throne. He felt the small flame inside of him flicker and grow. A Ranger from the North and the Woodland Prince. Black Riders may roam the lands, orcs may come down from the mountains, tales of dark things growing in Mordor may reach his ears, but today the King had seen that in which he still held hope, and believed wholly his hopes not to be mislaid.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank-you again so much of the reviews and kudos. I really do appreciate them :)
> 
> Note for this chapter: Aragorn's birthday is March 1 (same as me!!), and therefore the end of winter.

Autumn wore on and winter came, and Legolas and Aragorn spent the months within the warmth and protection of the Halls of the Woodland Realm. Aragorn enjoyed being amongst the company of elves once more. Legolas and Aragorn were seldom out of one another’s company. They dined together, trained together, and would explore the hidden passageways of the Woodland kingdom together. Every so often they would be called to see the King, but generally Thranduil left the pair to do as they would, and kept his counsel to himself.

On the day of Aragorn’s birthday, the Legolas and Aragorn set out for a hike. The day’s weather looked to be clear, and much of the eastern parts of the forest Legolas wished to show his friend. After the long winter months they were beginning to feel a little cramped within the Halls, and longed to be amongst the trees with the sky overhead once more. Legolas led their climb to the top of one of the mountains of Mirkwood, up where the air was fresh, and the bright, crisp blue sky shone overhead. Upon reaching the top, they were rewarded with a spectacular view, with Erebor and Esgaroth visible to the north and the feint outline of the Misty Mountains to the west. 

Aragorn grinned as he turned around, taking it all in. “It is quite a view,” he said.

Legolas smiled, pleased that Aragorn liked it. “We are fortunate the day is clear.”

“Do you come up here often?” the Ranger asked.

“I used to,” Legolas said, a hint of sadness in his voice, “But this past year aside, it has been long since I have done anything but protect my kingdom. Returning up here, I can see what it was all for.”

“You are lucky to have a home to protect,” Aragorn said. He sat down upon the rocky ground, facing south, the midday sun warming his back.

Legolas sat down beside him. “Some say we could have kept more of these lands safe if only my father would venture beyond his borders. But every time our folk leave our homeland, fewer make the return journey.” Legolas looked out to the south over the seemingly endless sea of trees. Many of the lands to the south were familiar to him only in the stories his father had told him long ago. 

Aragorn crossed his legs and poked at the rocks on the ground. He felt solemn and even a little downcast, despite the beauty of the view surrounding them. “What if I never grow to be the man they want me to be?”

“Who? Lord Elrond?” 

“Everyone,” Aragorn murmured. “What if I do not want the future they have set for me? What if I can not do it?”

Though he could not see beyond the sea of trees, Legolas half convinced himself that he could see all the way south, past Emyn Muil and the Dead Marshes, where so many of his ancestors and kin still lay. “Be it one year, be it ten or more,” he said to Aragorn, “Whenever the time comes, I will come with you, Aragorn. I will go with you into the very heart of Mordor itself, if that is where your path leads.”

Aragorn shuddered at the thought and continued to poke at the ground. “I do not ask you to do this. This is your home. You belong with your people.”

“This is our world,” Legolas said, “We would not have our home if I cannot save our world. Whatever you need of me, Aragorn, be it my bow and knives, or to be your captain or lieutenant or,”

“My friend,” Aragorn said. He looked sideways at Legolas. “I just need you to be my friend.”

Legolas gave a small smile. “Always. You have my confidence and my trust. My friendship.”

Aragorn gave a rue smile. “I never believed my most trusted friend to be a Woodland Prince.”

Legolas smiled, and then caught Aragorn’s eye. “I mean it though,” he said sincerely. “The storm of war is brewing on the horizon. We cannot escape from it. How soon the wind shall blow it in, we do not yet know, but the storm will come and veil the stars. But how ever dark the night becomes, Aragorn, I am with you.”

Aragorn looked at the ground once more. “I know,” he sighed. He did not wish to be responsible of Legolas’s fate as well as his own. As well as that of all of Middle Earth. “And what if I’m not who you think I am?” Aragorn muttered, his original worry still at the forefront of his mind, despite Legolas’s reassurances.

“Aragorn, stay a Ranger. Become the King. I do not care. Whatever it is you chose, I am with you. To whatever end.”

Aragorn continued to stare at the ground. The only other person he relied on and trusted entirely was the Lady Arwen. Perhaps it would be not so bad to have Legolas by his side. They had travelled together for a year, and though in the live of an elf that was next to nothing, Aragorn had a feeling that some years mattered more to elves than others. “I know,” he said.

Legolas gave a nod and stood up. “We must be returning. Nightfall shall soon be upon us, and I do not wish to be caught out after dark. Come Aragorn, for I do believe a feast awaits us.”

Aragorn pulled himself to his feet. “So this whole day has been but a ruse to get me out of the Halls? I did not know elves celebrated birthdays.”

“On the whole, we do not, for they come often and we have so many. But my father felt the need for an excuse for a party, and you provide a very good one.”

Aragorn could not help but roll his eyes and his lips threatened to smile. 

They began their descent back down the mountain, Aragorn’s mind still full of Legolas’s prior words. To whatever end. He looked at the blonde princeling leading the way and stopped. 

“Legolas?”

Legolas stopped and turned back to Aragorn.

“Hannon-le,” the Ranger said.

A smile crept onto Legolas’s face. He put his hand to his heart and held it out to Aragorn before continuing down the mountainside. 

Aragorn smiled.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is it folks! Final chapter. It's a bit of a time jump - 60 years in fact, with Legolas heading off to Rivendell for the start of Rings. Thank-you so much to all you lovely readers for your comments and kudos. Do keep it up even though the story is finished, because I still see them and it makes me very happy. They are very much appreciated. I quite expect I'll return to Middle Earth in my writing before too long, but after writing this story for a month, I need a little time out! Thank-you once again, and enjoy :)

Legolas fidgeted aimlessly as he wandered around his chambers. On his bed lay his cloak, bow, quiver and knives. Everything was ready to go. Everything was packed. He was now just passing time, waiting for word that it was time to depart. He re-straightened the already straight papers on his desk. Everything was perfect. His room was spotless. Everything had been packed. Everything was ready. Legolas knew his thoughts were going in circles. Now, all he needed to was to leave. He turned to the door.

“Ada?” The Prince said, surprised to see the King standing there. He had not heard his father enter.

“All is in order?” Thranduil asked, looking around the spotless room. 

Legolas stood awkwardly by his desk. He had not been expecting his father to call on him. “Are they ready to depart?” the Prince asked. He had assumed a server or steward would be sent to fetch him, and the King would merely wave him on his way. Legolas was setting off to Rivendell as a messenger for the King, after Lord Elrond had called an urgent meeting.

Thranduil stood imposingly by the door, hands clasped behind his back. “As soon as you are,” he King said formally, “Make as much of the daylight as you can.”  
“Ada, this meeting at Rivendell, it’s not just…It is not merely for leisure.”

“No,” the King said, “It is of the upmost importance. I believe our suspicions to be correct. If it is not in Rivendell already, Lord Elrond knows the whereabouts of the One Ring.”

Legolas nodded. Long had they searched for the Ring in hope of retrieving it before the enemy. It seemed at last that everything was coming together. The gathering storm clouds could no longer be outrun. Now would be the end of all things, should they fail.

“It must be destroyed, Legolas. It cannot fall into the hands of dwarves or men, not matter their intentions. The Ring has only the power to cause devastation and ruin,” Thranduil said, despite knowing that Legolas already understood this. “Nor can it stay with out kin, for the darkness is drawn to it; a darkness we no longer have the numbers or strength to repel.” 

Too much destruction the Ring had brought upon Middle Earth. Legolas looked at his father. Perhaps it was just the dawn light, but the King looked tired and worn. He still stood strong, and to many would be a formidable presence, but Legolas could see a weariness and frailty that he had not noticed before. And there was something else, Legolas thought. Something his father was holding back. “I will do what I can, Ada.”

“You will not be alone,” Thranduil said, “If he is not there, find Aragorn, for he must do this too.”

“Ada, you know it is not what he wishes,” Legolas said. The Ranger had long since made it clear that he did not wish to involve himself in matters of that nature. He had no wish for his birthright. 

“It is no longer a matter of what we wish or do not,” the King said, “It is only a matter of what is. Aragorn has put aside his duties for long enough. He brings hope to all whom he meets, whether he realises it or not. The world can wait no longer. Destroy the Ring. Put Aragorn on the Throne of Gondor. You shall see this world restored.”

“Ada, I…” Legolas trailed off. He suddenly felt as though he had been punched in the stomach as the realisation hit him. “You are leaving?” he asked, trying desperately to keep his voice from cracking.

Thranduil stared at the wall behind his son, unable to look Legolas in the eyes. “There is nothing left for me here, only the pain which I can endure no longer. It will likely be some months yet, but yes. I am ready to leave.”

“But, the kingdom, I…” 

“Those who wish to sail west shall depart with me. All those who wish to stay shall be accepted into Lothlorien. I have spoken with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn regarding this, and they are happy to welcome those of the Woodland Realm, which shall exist no longer.”

Legolas opened his mouth to respond, but closed it at once, as he did not know what to say. 

“All things must end,” the King went on, “Even great realms and empires.”

“Ada, I…” Legolas moved slowly towards his father. “I do not understand.” The Prince had no sea-longing. When had his father been planning on telling him all this? 

“Forgive me for not burdening you with such information earlier, but I could not bring myself to lay it upon you. It pains me to leave you, more than I can say,” the King said, forcing himself to look at Legolas, though the confusion and sadness on his son’s face almost broke his heart. “Here I shall leave some of those I have loved the most. Those destined now to become naught but memories.” Thranduil walked past Legolas and picked up his son’s cloak from the bed, in need of something to do. “I shall wait upon a distant pier, watching ever to the east, every day as dawn rises, in hope of seeing you once more.” The King turned and placed the cloak around Legolas’s shoulders. “I shall held out hope until the end of time for that day, however long you choose here to stay.”

“I know,” Legolas said, “But I still do not understand.”

“I know. One day you shall. One day. Come now,” Thranduil said, taking a step back from his son. “You must depart.”

Legolas collected the rest of his things from his bed. He turned around and almost walked straight into his father. “Oh, Ada, I…”

Thranduil put his right hand out onto Legolas’s shoulder. Legolas did the same to his father. “Know that I have always been proud of you,” the King said, his voice strained.

“As I have always admired you, Ada.”

The King gave a nod and forced half a smile. “I have always been proud.”

Legolas smiled, though his heart was torn. “Hannon-le, Ada,” he said, and let go of his father’s shoulder.

“Legolas,” the King called softly as Legolas reached the door. 

Legolas stopped and looked back. Thranduil put his hand to his heart and held it out. Slowly, Legolas returned the gesture. The King nodded, his eyes full of emotion. Legolas hurried out of his room to the entrance gate, from where he would ride from his father’s Halls one last time.


End file.
